


Knightmare

by SomeBratInAMask



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, DinahBabs isn't the main couple here but I may write another chapter focusing on them, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7586572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeBratInAMask/pseuds/SomeBratInAMask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Misery loves company,” Richard murmurs in Barbara’s ear, Jason a constant shadow by his shoulder and Lady Dinah occupied some yards off by a suitor.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Barbara, waiting for the return of her Lady-in-Waiting, retorts, “Misery prefers blondes,” and takes an agitated sip of her wine. Richard frowns and brushes a dark lock of hair from his eyes.</i>
</p><p>Prince Richard and Princess Barbara have been arranged to marry for as long as Richard can remember. If anyone inquires into his random silences over dinner, he's preoccupied by the engagement ring Barbara wears and not the bead of sweat that rolled down his knight's bare back at training.</p><p>Likewise, Barbara has no idea what Lady Dinah's legs feel like beneath her skirts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: For the Royalty AU: "Royal balls are such a bore, aren't they?" perhaps with Prince!Dick and Jason as his ever noble knight?

Prince Richard’s family is fond of telling fairytales. Not fond in the way that mothers are fond when their children listen at their skirts. They are fond of fairytales in the way court jesters are fond of costume makeup, or assassins are of hiding places. The Waynes like their fairytales because fairytales are practical. Fairytales are what kept the kingdom quiet when King Bruce took in a low-blooded orphan and declared him the Crown Prince. Fairytales are what enamored the Gordon Family when King Bruce proposed a marriage between Prince Richard and Princess Barbara.

This is the fairytale: benevolent King Bruce adopts a wild child born from dirt and is quickly overwhelmed by this tiny, mercurial tyrant. It is only the serene smile of Princess Barbara that tames Richard. The two fall in love the moment their eyes meet and happily await matrimony with bated, synchronized breath.

This is the truth: Prince Richard has known nothing but silver spoons all his life. He knows he was born to nomads named Grayson, but his earliest memory is traipsing the castle halls as his nanny Alfred chases him. Princess Barbara is eight years old when they are engaged, and Richard is younger yet. He can’t sit still long enough to synchronize breaths, let alone fall in love. Instead, he chucks a silver spoonful of pea soup on her light pink dress and she reprimands him in her typical precociousness. He cries until she comforts him just to shut him up.

Prince Richard likes fairytales, too, of course. He likes them in the way that people are supposed to like them: optimistically, warmly, earnestly. If he repeats the fairytale in his head, Barbara’s engagement ring seems less like cold, unwavering metal and more like his pinky finger curled around hers in a promise. Richard can’t wait for the day he promises to love her forever, because it’s a promise he’s held unspoken for years. He wants to announce her beauty, her intelligence, her strength to the world. Princess Barbara is Richard’s personal fairytale.

Unfortunately, Sir Todd is his personal nightmare. It’s Richard’s fault, in the end. He set the tone when he invited Jason Todd into the Royal Guard with the words _I have use for your sword_ and a pointed flicker between the Knight’s legs. It had only been a joke, and Barbara laughed until she snorted like a pig when he told her, so Richard knew it was a _good_ joke.

Good joke or not, however, did nothing to preclude Sir Todd’s fixed blush the first week he moved into Richard’s quarters. Had Richard known the shy way Jason ducks his head when embarrassed, or the dangerous smirk he wears when he isn’t, or his playful snickers and biting wit, or his flare for the dramatic and the trail of hair right above his trousers – well, had Richard been privy to any of Jason’s charms, he might have eased up on the innuendos and saved himself the nightly question _what if_ and all that incorrigible yearning.

Richard’s one consultation is that Barbara has her own personal nightmare in the form of lovely Lady Dinah. If Richard is doomed to stolen kisses and Jason’s snidely jealous remarks, then it’s only appropriate that his fiancée be equally unsatisfied. Marriage, after all, is about sharing.

Richard’s coming-of-age ceremony is a testament to this. “Misery loves company,” he murmurs in Barbara’s ear, Jason a constant shadow by his shoulder and Dinah occupied some yards off by a suitor.

Barbara, waiting for the return of her Lady-in-Waiting, retorts, “Misery prefers blondes,” and takes an agitated sip of her wine. Richard frowns and brushes a dark lock of hair from his eyes. There is a lot of dancing tonight, a lot of toasting, a lot of laughing. Mostly, there is a lot of drinking. Barbara is intent on beating the guests’ combined record in that last area. She’s allowed to: Richard is terrible at hiding his affections when sober. Barbara is a champion of mixed messages and aloof dispositions. Had it not been for her darling meddlesome fiancé, she likely never would have confessed her feelings for Lady Dinah.

When you want a clandestine affair and excessively romantic overtures, you go to Richard. When you want a successful political marriage and a hush-hush personal life, you go to Barbara. This is why Richard, despite all knowledge of reality, truly believes that their union – in its own slippery way – is the stuff of fairytales. Because when his eyes meet Jason’s and their breaths synchronize, he couldn’t imagine ever having the safety to fall in love without Barbara.

Lady Dinah shakes her suitor and approaches them. She nods politely at Richard; he grins back and winks before she leads Barbara away to a corner behind a buffet table.

Alone, he drops his head against the wall and sighs. Jason is sporting a bad mood, but he always is, especially at parties. Richard has avoided dancing all night so as to spend more time together, but guests still flock to him at a suffocating rate. He doesn’t trust this moment of peace to last very long. He glances at Jason and is, per usual, taken aback by his broad shoulders and alert posture. The million lights on the massive chandelier dance along his bold cheekbones and flatter his strong jaw line. He is absolutely stunning in his formal attire.

Richard drums his fingers on his legs. “Royal balls are such a bore, aren’t they?” he asks.

Jason narrows his eyes. “You love balls.” When Richard barks a laugh, Jason shakes his head and says, “No, I mean the actual event.”

This isn’t as funny. “Oh.”

“Normally you would be clawing at any chance to spin around like an idiot with some poor noblewoman strapped to you. What’s with the sulking?”

“I am not sulking,” Richard disagrees. He’s a little insulted by this allegation and tries not to appear petulant. “I am remaining by your side to maximize bonding time.”

Jason merely raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think that’s an activity better reserved for your bed chamber?”

“No!” Richard protests. “We’re having _fun,”_ he informs, jostling Jason’s shoulder. “We are having fun, in public, as a couple.”

“So that’s what _you’re_ doing, then? Because I’ve been watching for unfamiliar faces, suspiciously armed men, nearby conflicts, and drinks handed to you. I’m _on duty.”_

Richard hums and strokes his fingers over Jason’s knuckles, body angled to obscure their hands. “Talk diligently to me,” he purrs. “Detail all the ways you’d kill a man for me. Spare no gore; it titillates.”

Jason glares at him, but it’s more perfunctory than venomous. “There’s beheading, obviously. Disembowelment. Death by – ”

Richard interrupts. “Don’t say it so prosaically!”

“Excuse me?”

 _“There’s beheading,”_ Richard quotes, unimpressed. “Where’s the _performance?”_

Jason exhales, pained, but dives into his storytelling. Jason is good with theater. “A dubious man with a scarred face extracts himself from the commotion of the ballroom. He accuses you of being a sham of a prince – ”

Richard clucks his tongue at the imaginary opponent. “An ass.”

“ – loud voice ricocheting off the walls of your father’s ballroom, and charges at you with a dagger. I swiftly unsheathe my sword and make a clean slice through his throat, blood splattering everywhere and making a sound like,” Jason imitates a gross slurping noise. “He falls to the floor, utterly vanquished.”

“Blood gets everywhere, huh?”

“Everywhere,” Jason confirms.

“Even on my fine coat?”

Jason does that dangerous smirk, the one he only wears for challengers and Richard. “Oh, _heavens no._ Your coat is as crisp and sparkling as your ass.”

“A blessing, like my ass,” jokes Richard.

Jason leans closer, the guests disappearing one by one as they create a bubble for themselves. “However, there’s the faintest drop of blood right here,” he continues, voice low. He swipes a thumb just below Richard’s bottom lip. Richard’s eyes follow his movement. “All clean,” Jason concludes, pulling away.

Richard licks his lips and pieces himself back together, shaking off the bubble that had encircled them for a moment. That bubble could get them in trouble. “I am thoroughly titillated,” he confesses, statement more sincere than he would appreciate.

Jason’s smile is shark-like. “Shall we move onto disembowelment?”

Richard doesn’t think he could handle that – neither the literal outlining of the process, nor any sly touches Jason might incorporate. But someone will arrive any time now to drag Prince Richard’s attention away from Sir Todd, so he is unwisely game for anything Jason may have to say. Including disembowelment. “I’m all yours,” he vows, bowing his head and smiling in welcome.


End file.
